


messin' with my head

by cowboyflesh (cowboymeat), lambchops (lambmeat)



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Boat Sex, Creampie, Idiots in Love, M/M, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Tenderness, Trans Male V (Cyberpunk 2077), Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29310420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboymeat/pseuds/cowboyflesh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambmeat/pseuds/lambchops
Summary: Never lost the wild edge to him through the years, even with the spotlight of musical prestige following his every move. If anything, it’s sharpened that dangerous instinct in him to break things of others, destroy anything materialistic.Wandering hands dig into V's back pockets for better leverage as Kerry tries to eat him alive, growling against his lips. V whimpers in the back of his throat, panting open against his lips as Kerry relents, pulling back and brushing noses.Completely forgot what he wanted to say now, what nagging, instinctual release was residing beneath his more carnal one.
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/Male V, Kerry Eurodyne/V
Kudos: 37





	messin' with my head

**Author's Note:**

> cw: cunt, cock, hole , folds used for V  
> 

Reveling in the notes floating out over the water as Kerry makes his guitar sing, spitting bits of philosophy like it’s nothing between riffs, V’s never been more content. All of the highs and dragon-chasing he’s done in his days on the street, and nothing compares to this. The purity of the moment— only them and the melody. 

Johnny’s still milling about, as he tends to do around Eurodyne, despite his insistence that he’s finished angsting about their past. He’s as easily-ignorable as a particularly insistent gnat, apart from the muttered jabs at V for pursuing what he so poetically calls his “sloppy seconds.”

As the final note rings out, Kerry sets the guitar down. Casts his gaze out as the evening sun rains down on the waves, making the seafoam sparkle at the border of boat and water, but V can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s something important, given the way the singer worries his lower lip as his words steady on the crest of his teeth.

“What’cha thinkin’?”

“About us.”

“Gonna sink me with the boat? Don’t have life insurance if that’s what you’re thinking, Ker.”

It nets him a chuckle from Kerry as he rises from the vinyl booth. 

“No. Just— follow me. Gonna show you a good time.”

“Alright—” the merc begins with a teasing tone cut short by the shock of the bass being thrown against the hardwood deck. It splinters and shatters into fragments and his gaze shoots up to meet Kerry’s. Thousands of eddies just trashed like it’s nothing, and the man’s developed a crazed look in his eye in the mere seconds it took to demolish the piece. 

“Jesus,” V breathes as he doggedly follows Eurodyne into the bowels of the boat. 

“Gonna fuckin’ destroy this shit.”

A rush of adrenaline floods V’s veins as he follows along, passing through the doorway into the interior lounge. He’s seen Kerry partake in more brazen stunts, blowing up rival musicians' equipment and holding them at gunpoint as a first date comes to mind, but he’s never seen him handle his own gear with such tactless aggression. 

His Adam's apple dips as he swallows his excitement. Heat pools in his gut heavy as molten lead as Kerry shoots a wicked glance his way, tugging him along by the hand. 

“I, uh…” V starts, trailing off as Kerry stops dead in the middle of the room and pulls him in roughly, the rest of his words being pushed from his lungs in a puff of air. Kerry smiles before easily capturing V’s lips with his.

So easy, always hungry for whatever Kerry wants to provide. Caresses, hugs, snuggles, kisses, everything— V takes it and devours every scrap of affection Kerry holds out to him like a starving dog, only to look at him for more with those beautiful, sea-foam green eyes of his. 

It’s slow but ravenous, V hesitating for just a half-second before pushing against Eurodyne, hands falling to grip the lapels of his leather jacket like a life-line. He feels Kerry smile against him before his teeth tug his lower lip back, threatening to pierce the delicate flesh with his canine. 

What V was trying to convey gets lost in the moment, body alight with arousal as Kerry dives back in with a groan. Doesn’t erase the uncomfortable weight sitting low in his stomach next to his lust, but mitigates the unpleasant gnawing of natural release. 

Sighing into Kerry, his hands come to brace against his biceps as the vocalist reaches low and gropes his ass, broad hands kneading the soft flesh hard enough to make V rise to the balls of his feet.

Never lost the wild edge to him through the years, even with the spotlight of musical prestige following his every move. If anything, it’s sharpened that dangerous instinct in him to break things of others, destroy anything materialistic, even his own items, in fits of passion fueled by higher motives.

Good to know that even ascending the socioeconomic ladder, he still retains his punk attitude, all too happy to spit in the faces of his associates and peers and piss on their doorsteps. V can’t lie when he says it certainly helped drag him in, not really one for the _finer_ things in life— all the bougie designer clothes and parties not quite his speed, even if Kerry has invited him along as his plus one with the promise of buying him whatever digs he wants for the event.

Wandering hands dig into his back pockets for better leverage as Kerry tries to eat him alive, growling against his lips. V whimpers in the back of his throat, panting open against his lips as Kerry relents, pulling back and brushing noses. 

Completely forgot what he wanted to say now. 

“Got a light?”

“C—‘course, Ker,” V spits, the words dancing along his tongue as he struggles through the drool and lust to fumble at his pockets. No one else got him disheveled so easily, effortlessly. He shoves the lighter into Kerry’s palm. 

With a parting kiss, he captures V’s lips before stomping over to the overflowing alcohol cabinet, encased elegantly in glass. Kerry takes one of the too-expensive decorations from the countertop before walloping the glass. It spiderwebs easily, cascading around him and settling like snow in his hair. 

He whips the shards off with a shake of the head, and they fall to join the rest of the sheet at his boots. Unceremoniously, he plucks the top-shelf liquor down before popping the cap and taking a gratuitous swig. It licks down his chin and throat cybernetics, glossing his features in the light of the cabin. He slides the bottle to V over the counter before taking a couple other spirits from the shelf and smashing them on the ground. Like grenades, they burst as he spaces them out over the length of the room. 

It dawns on V exactly what he’s doing as the vocalist turns the lighter over in his hand. Sets in stone when those hungry eyes turn back on him. 

“Dunno what Johnny told ya, but I can be as fuckin’ crazy as he can be.”

V can practically feel Silverhand’s eyes roll, though he seems to have politely stepped out as soon as Kerry put his hands on him. 

“Yeah?”

“Ever fucked on a burning boat?”

“Can’t say I have,” the merc swallows. So his Ker Bear is a little bit of a pyromaniac. Can’t fault him for it. 

“Let’s change that,” he grins, taking the bottle from V once he’d drunk his fill. Knocks it back one more time before it arcs across the room and drips down the far wall. He clicks the lighter on and chucks it in the same direction, and within a few seconds, the liquor-soaked carpet is crackling with flame. Modest, to begin, but it spreads quickly. 

Kerry, already eager to start, is shedding his clothes with a purpose. Gnawing at his own lips, his arousal is hardly contained. In fact, it’s not contained at all as he kicks his boxers into the flame. He walks V back against the leather-upholstered couch, hovering eagerly over his lap. 

Sitting with a thump, V looks up at Kerry in a mix of awe and blazing arousal. Haloed by the flames licking the interior cabin walls, he looks dangerously beautiful in the fire’s light with hooded eyes and that damn smirk. 

Then his eyes dart south to the prominent arch of Kerry’s arousal, already leaking with a clear bead of precum clinging to the flushed tip. With the boat gradually losing itself to the inferno, V doesn’t have time to sit and play coy as they’d generally do. The adrenaline makes him act before his mind can speed up to the present, still catching on to what he was trying to tell Eurodyne before he stole his breath away. 

Pulling Kerry closer by the hip, V eagerly parts his lips and laps at the salty pre- forming with a grin. Above him, the vocalist groans before chuckling lowly, a hand settling on the back of V’s head to guide him along. Taking the hint, V holds Kerry’s cock steady with one hand as he engulfs as much as he can, already setting a quick rhythm in how he bobs his head and hollows his cheeks.

“Fuck, V,” Kerry huffs, rocking his hips into the motion until V stills entirely, allowing his boyfriend to shallowly fuck his mouth. Then he tenses as Kerry pauses to shift, lifting a foot up into the leather couch for the best angle to slip into V’s throat. 

A whimper escapes as Kerry pulls his head down further, breaching the tight anatomy of his throat and refusing to relent until he’s fully sheathed in that perfect heat. 

“There you go, baby,” Kerry praises breathlessly, peeking down through his eyelashes to find V gazing back up at him dreamily. Tears prickle his waterline as he fights the urge to gag around the impressive length. 

Without much foreplay readying his throat, he can’t help the obscenely loud noises that escape as Kerry draws out and immediately bucks back in, setting a punishing pace. 

The warmth cast from the mounting flame warms the backs of Kerry’s exposed thighs, forcing him to continue with urgency lest the pair of them be added to the pyre. V accommodates eagerly, tugging at his own clothes with his free hand now. 

His eyes fall closed as he gratuitously bobs his head. The prickle of pain at the back of his throat subsides as his tongue laves against the underside of Eurodyne’s cock, swallowing and drooling around the girth like his life depends on it. 

Apparently, Kerry is just as determined on wrecking his throat as he is the yacht—brow furrowed in concentration as the soft hollows of V’s cheeks milk him. A few pleased sighs, whispered praise, contradictory to his enraged rocker persona only moments before, tumble past his lips. 

Just as suddenly as his nose was burrowed into the curls of Kerry’s lower belly, his hips pull back and leave his throat agonizingly empty. He can see the jump of his arousal protesting the sudden neglect. 

“Let’s get those clothes off ya,” Kerry growls, stepping back off the couch easily. Before V even has time to react— to aid in the process at all— the vocalist is already tearing at the offending garments, fervid in his desire to see his bare flesh. 

Haphazardly, as he’s ripped free, the clothes are tossed too near to the flames for comfort. Isn’t in the right headspace to protest. Not when Kerry’s just about the hungriest V’s ever seen him sober. 

Nosing into his neck, teeth grazing his leaping pulse, his breath shudders. “Gotta feel ya.”

“Shit, Ker,” V mumbles, voice ruined. He can feel Kerry’s stomach leap at his newfound range. “Helluva date.”

“Only just starting,” he returns, hand trailing down to grope at V’s pec. The merc can hardly stifle a groan as his index finger hones in on his nipple. 

The other hand drops south, slowly pumping his cock and wetting his hand with V’s copious drool. Before V can process where all their limbs are, just getting his arms around Kerry’s neck to keep him close, he jumps as Eurodyne pets his little cock once, twice, before slipping lower. His curious fingers skirt along his folds, splitting them and rubbing over his fluttering hole before pressing in. 

“Fuck—“ V pants, ragged and scratchy. Tipping back, dependent on Kerry to keep them both upright, V cants his hips out and lifts a foot off the ground. Sliding two digits home, the vocalist growls in his ear as he spares just a moment to stroke those soft, warm walls. 

Kerry knows just where V’s sweet spot is, how to take him apart with simple, slow thrusts of his hand. Loves to fuck him on his fingers just so he can watch in crystal clarity the way V’s face falls slack and simultaneously twists in pleasure. His favorite hobby some could say, seeing how he devotes much of their shared time together to making V fall into pieces. 

Dragging out, then pushing back in with an upward angle, he massages his walls and is rewarded as V bears down around him with a sharp gasp. 

“So fuckin’ hot—“

“Ker—“ V interrupts, his hips jerking at the internal stimulation against his entirely too-full bladder. Of course, of all times, as the cabin’s bathroom is on fire with the clock ticking against their desires, now would be when he’s gotta go. He was blissfully content ignoring it up until now, where it is an unavoidable and desperate sensation tugging more tears from his eyes as he fights himself not to completely lose control. 

Kerry doesn’t still for a second, taking the frantic look to be one of impending release. Slipping a third finger in, the extra force behind his wrist makes V almost keen.

“Close already?” he says teasingly, to which V shakes his head, fumbling for words around a mouthful of groans and weak pants. 

“I-I— Ker! Stop, I’ll—”

“Go ahead, baby,” Kerry coos, hurrying his hand until he’s jostling V’s entire body with the quick force. He’s braced on his forearm against the window, looking down at V as he shivers and groans thickly through his teeth. Then it turns into a growling, trapped deep in his chest as a hand shoots between them to halt Kerry’s movements.

His hips twitch, and he can’t help himself as he uselessly bucks against the air in an attempt to alleviate the maddening ache in his lower stomach. Caught himself at the precipice of no return, squeezing Kerry’s wrist into compliance when he tries to coyly work his fingers inside of him.

“I’ll piss _.”_

Doesn’t quite mean to look so mad (the worst he can do, seeing as he cannot appear threatening with drool down his chin and tears streaking down his flushed cheeks) as he peers through his lashes as Kerry, but the vocalist takes it too-well in stride. 

He grins hungrily, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his cock. Would be mean, too much at once, if V weren’t already slick enough that they could forego lube. Feeds it into his hole as it twitches around him deliciously. 

“Jesus, fuck—”

“Go on, V. Make a mess,” Kerry encourages. V, in his mind clouded with baser instinct, can’t tell if Kerry’s truly into the idea of it, or because it further destroys the vessel. Even so, he can hardly care in the meantime, with the added pressure only further agitating his bladder. 

“Can’t hold it,” V pants as one final warning. Eurodyne simply starts on a borderline-mean pace, not backing down in the face of V’s release. The younger man can only emit a muffled groan as the first hot stream forces its way out alongside Kerry’s length. He stifles it as best he can, not too keen on losing his bladder when he can count their number dates on a couple of hands. But he simply can’t help it. 

His thighs shudder as nature takes its course, warm and wet as it pools and works down onto the couch below them. 

“So good, baby,” Kerry praises, not ceasing in his movements even as the merc relieves himself. The impact of skin against skin is now joined by obscene wetness as the vocalist fucks into V— audible even over the crackle of flame and the groaning of the yacht as its body is wrecked. 

“Feel better?”

Even in spite of the potent combination of relief and mounting pleasure, V can feel heat rivaling the rest of the room rising to his cheeks. Shame or embarrassment or something else, it all suits him just the same. 

V isn’t rude, merely can’t form a coherent sentence. All he can do is nod and moan as Kerry’s thumb strokes over his aching cock. 

“Good,” Ker smirks, shifting to hold V’s thighs up and allow himself a better angle. 

V can only cling to Kerry as the older vocalist easily takes him beneath the knees and lifts him. The shift in position drives him even deeper, pushing another weak spurt of piss and embarrassed whimper out of V as he tries to bear down against it, fruitlessly attempting to bar the escape of more. 

Kerry doesn’t waste a second— not that they have the option to, with the boat groaning in protest as the fire sweeps through the walls and seizes the innards of the vessel. Still holding against the ebbing water, but barely, as the boat rocks with more aggression than before. Plumes of smoke escape and shift the pressure of the interior. 

V buries his face in Kerry’s neck, moaning against his pulse as he starts to pump his cock into V’s tight, wet heat like it’s his last night on earth. Could very well be, seeing as he completely ignores the slowly encroaching flames in favor of emptying his balls deep in his output. 

“K-Ker,” V sighs, open-mouthed and reedy against his feverishly hot skin. Kerry shifts, pressing V against the window for a better angle. 

Barely propped up by the thin lip of the back of the couch, V scrambles for a grip on Kerry’s shoulders, scoring red welts down his back as he fights for leverage. The tingly sting of V’s nails down his shoulder blades elicits a deep groan, the layers of pleasure resulting in a reflexive buck. He holds V’s hips low, angled just right to where he hits deepest. Noises claw out of V’s throat, deep and guttural as Kerry wrecks his hole, slick and piss dripping onto the couch upholstery in volumes that seem fictional.

“Y’know,” Kerry says breathlessly into his ear, “reminded me.” The thinly-veiled suggestion hardly registers in the midst of his pleasure until Kerry’s lips pass over his ear with a shuddering sigh. “You mind?”

V manages a confused mewl as Kerry slows, hips bucking deep enough to ache wonderfully in his stomach. He can’t think past Kerry stretching him open, filling him so completely that it makes his legs quiver where they’re draped over Eurodyne’s arms. Almost overwhelming, how his cock is fat enough to make his hole throb and flutter around him, trying to accommodate.

With no objection, Kerry presses a kiss to the shell of his ear before he suddenly stills. Then he groans, pressing his hips forward and grinding himself in as deep as possible as he empties his bladder inside the younger. 

The realization of just what Kerry was insinuating hits V as the sensation of hot liquid pooling inside of him registers. He whimpers, then whines as he cycles through abject astonishment to mortification at the sheer amount of enjoyment he’s getting out of the vocalist spilling into him.

Cock throbbing, pulsing with the stream, the feeling of V’s tight hole being pushed to its limits, toned belly just beginning to visibly swell with the added pressure inside of him, it momentarily transports him from the boat. The fire, the threat of the weakening beams above them, and none of the danger with the sinking vessel exist as he revels in the novel sensation.

“Fuck, V. Attaboy,” Kerry praises breathlessly. From his vantage point, V can see the blush burning his cheeks and shoulders intensify as he finishes relieving himself. 

Doesn’t even wait before pulling out until his tip catches the rim of V’s cunt, freeing too-hot piss from his puffy hole. Kerry sighs against his ear as he presses back in, rolling his hips and pushing yet more out of him. Wave after wave, until it’s left soaking into the couch. 

Too loud to even be drowned out by the crackle and distress of the boat, they make quite a sight. Thighs smacking meanly against V’s ass as he takes what he’s claimed. V’s all too happy to come along for the ride. 

He cups the merc’s jaw as he loses his grip on his self-control— V keens as the arch of his cock slides against his sweet spot on each upstroke. Neither of them are to last much longer, not with the sweet stretch and pull of his cunt as Kerry fucks into him and the delicate words of filth that fly freely like ashes into the air. 

Uselessly, V tries to fuck himself back onto the vocalist’s length, but the quaking of his thighs limits the control he has. He can’t even spit out a warning when his slick hole begins milking Kerry as his own orgasm rips through him. 

“Fuck _, fuck,_ please! Ker!” 

His fingers dig into Eurodyne’s shoulder blades, and their heads knock together. The stretch is almost too much as Kerry sheathes himself fully in his lover, spilling violently into the merc with all but a sob of his own. V whimpers as the aching cock inside of him throbs and floods him. 

Kerry’s chest heaves as he draws in breath, clinging to V just as harshly as V does to him. 

There isn’t much time to sit and bask in the afterglow as either of them would like— no tender caresses on whatever part of the body they can reach, no evening of breath as they climb down from their highs gradually, and no blissful comfort of feeling Kerry grow soft inside him, cradled in the comfort of his legs and arms.

Kerry apologizes for the haste with a firm kiss, and another, and another, as he helps V find his legs beneath him once more and stabilize the merc against the trembling of his legs and the shuddering of the boat capsizing.

A groan of loss leaves him as Kerry has to pull out, leaving him aching and profoundly empty, yearning for just a little bit longer with that lovely feeling of fullness and contentment. With a grimace, everything that had yet to slip free does, trailing down his inner thighs and forcing a chill up his spine even in the steadily heating cabin. The water will do away with it, but thinking about the chilly water further stresses him in his growing post-orgasm clarity.

The yacht is more than just destroyed— absolutely defiled by their activities as V has to step around the pool of piss and cum trailing down the gradually increasing slope of the ship. 

The twinge of mild annoyance fades as Kerry tugs him along by the hand, leading them out to the moonlight deck. Turning to look back at him as they approach the stern, V’s cheeks are graced with the familiar kiss of heat. And not just because they’re both naked as the day they were born, well-within eyeshot of shoreline and other boats along the river.

He’s beautiful. The bluish hue of the moon melds with the soft glow of his eyes, gleaming with pleasure and life. It highlights the softness of his smile, accentuating his afterglow into something profound and uniquely ‘Kerry.’ He seems more than at peace with the freezing waters and the open nudity, happier than V’s ever seen him before.

“Think your legs work?” Kerry asks with a cheeky grin. 

His smile is infectious, and V feels himself catching it. Doesn’t have to say anything before he’s being pulled overboard, and the last thing he sees before he hits the water is the expression of pure, unadulterated love for life etched into Kerry’s face, lighting up his face in the half-second before the close before hitting the water and the excited yell he barks mid-air.

So maybe V’s little… _mishap_ hasn’t fazed him as much as V worried it might— but now the vague tug of concern for Kerry encouraging more defiling acts of exhibition pricks at his mind now that the merc has shown his willingness. But if it allows V to witness that uninhibited joy again, he’ll be more than happy to go along with whatever grand stunt Kerry will scheme next.

**Author's Note:**

> [lambchop's twitter](https://twitter.com/commanderbait)   
>  [cowboyflesh’s twitter](https://twitter.com/silverdynes)


End file.
